


Homecoming, Homemaking.

by winterdesu



Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also sorry for making up a grandmother for Fubuki, somewhat angsty, sorry for turning Gouenji's father homophobic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterdesu/pseuds/winterdesu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At seventeen, Gouenji learns about liberation.</p>
<p>At eighteen, Fubuki learns about rejection.</p>
<p>At twenty-nine, their lives are utterly intertwined as one.</p>
<p>This is their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming, Homemaking.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been over two years since the last time I wrote Goufubu, and the monster I finally poop out is the longest oneshot.
> 
> In this fic, Fubuki goes to Raimon for high school and lives in the school dorms.
> 
> Please enjoy!

_Second year of high school – Gouenji 17, Fubuki 17_

 

            Gouenji met Fubuki’s family first.

            Said family was Fubuki’s grandmother on his mother’s side, a rather youthful-looking old lady whose eyebrows and smile Fubuki inherited.

            (“Then why were you living alone in Hokkaido?” Gouenji had wondered aloud one day after soccer practice.

            “Grandma has been travelling the world since I was twelve,” Fubuki answered, trying not to think about the hollow feeling of abandonment whenever she left the house with a sad smile, lugging her suitcase behind her. “She comes home occasionally. My parents’ and Atsuya’s deaths were too much for her, and we already lost grandpa when Atsuya and I were small, so I suppose she felt very lonely.” He should be grateful that she had taken care of him until he could live by himself, too.

            He could practically see Gouenji do the math as his gaze darkened momentarily. “Five years is quite the long time,” his partner only said lightly.

            “It is,” Fubuki murmured and laid his head on Gouenji’s shoulder. Gouenji offered additional comfort in the form of taking his hand into his, and Fubuki felt a fond smile creep its way up his face.)

            Now he and Gouenji got off the bus and walked up the slope hand in hand to the small, quiet house he had lived in until he moved to the dorms in Raimon High. The dry, cool breeze was comfortable on his face and brought forth a sense of nostalgia.

            They went along the path next to the large field of wildflowers, and Fubuki saw Gouenji stare out into the spread of blossoms. “We’re really close. We can come and look at them whenever.”

            Gouenji met his eyes and nodded with a smile. “They’re really beautiful.” He gave the flowers another glance before turning back towards him. “But you’ll always be the most beautiful thing to me.”

            Fubuki chuckled and squeezed Gouenji’s hand. “You’re so cute when you’re being a sap. We’re here.”

            They stopped in front the small traditional house, and for a few moments, they stood and stared at the structure in silence.

            “Welcome to the Fubuki household,” Fubuki said softly, smiling at Gouenji’s apprehensive expression and rummaging in his pocket for the keys.

            In the middle of unlocking the door, he suddenly heard footsteps from inside the house.

            “Wait, isn’t your grandmother abroad?” Gouenji asked. _Is it a burglar?_

Fubuki sensed his silent question and shook his head.“She’s probably back for a while.”

            At that moment, the door opened to reveal his grandmother in one of those loose, flowing dresses of hers, curly white-streaked dark hair longer than the last time he’d seen it.

            “Shirou!” she exclaimed. “Oh, it’s been such a long time.” She moved forward to pull him into a brief hug that Fubuki reciprocated happily. “I hope you’ve been well. And you friend here?”

            Gouenji bowed low. “Gouenji Shuuya. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fubuki-san.”

            “Shuuya-kun, is it? Didn’t you play for Inazuma Japan as well?”

            “Yes, Shi- Fubuki and I are teammates.”

            “Well, I’m glad you’re here to visit. Do come in.” His grandmother opened the door wider to let them in. They shed their shoes in the doorway, and Fubuki led his partner into the living room, feeling nostalgic as he surveyed the wooden floorboards, the small square table, the little television at the corner and the large open windows facing the path they had just come up.   
            “I’ll make us some tea. Is barley tea alright with you, Shuuya-kun?” His grandmother asked.

            “Thank you and sorry for all the trouble,” Gouenji said. His grandmother laughed and laid a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “Such a nice, polite boy you are. I’ll be in the kitchen, you two go settle down.”

            “We will,” Fubuki said and watched the familiar shape of her back as she bustled into the kitchen to prepare aforementioned tea.

            Taking Gouenji by the hand, Fubuki led him up the stairs to his bedroom. “And here’s the wolf den,” he joked as he slid the door open.

            Gouenji huffed a soft laugh behind him and Fubuki reached to flick the lights on. It was just as he had left it two years ago when he decided to go to Raimon High: futon folded neatly in the innermost right corner, desk in the left one and wardrobe at the right near the door.

            “Just put your things here,” Fubuki said, walking over to do just as he had said. His bag hit the floor with a soft thud and he sighed in relief as the weight was gone from his left shoulder. Gouenji put his bag down next to his and looked around the room. “I think you mentioned that you moved here after the avalanche?”

            “I did,” Fubuki replied, a little surprised that Gouenji remembered. He had only mentioned it in passing back when they were playing in the FFI. “Well, it’s a nice place here.”

            “It is,” Gouenji said. “Your grandmother must be waiting for us. Let’s go?”

            Fubuki hummed his agreement. “She’ll be wanting to talk to this handsome _friend_ of mine.”

            They descended the stairs and seated themselves around the table, just as his grandmother came bearing a tray with three cups of tea. Gouenji quickly went forward to take it from her hands, and Fubuki drew a chair for her to sit down. All three of them settled at the table, sipping the warm barley tea and enjoying the summer breeze from the open windows that offered a direct view of the field of wildflowers.

            “The photos really don’t do this place justice,” Gouenji commented, and Fubuki turned to see him staring out into the field, eyes soft and a faint smile on his lips.

            “It is beautiful here this time of the year,” his grandmother agreed, cradling her own cup of tea and sighing. “Ah, it’s good to be back.”

            “How long are you staying this time?” Fubuki asked. Maybe they could have the house to themselves for a while after all.

            “Only one week, I'm afraid,” his grandmother replied, smiling ruefully at him. “I met an old couple about the same age as I am on my last trip to Hong Kong,” she explained. “We’ve agreed to meet again in Singapore soon, then we’ll be going to the Amazon together.” She sipped tea from her light pink cup and smiled at him, the crinkles around her eyes deepening. The wisps of curls at her forehead seemed to glitter silver in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. “And you boys? Staying for the entire summer vacation?”

            “Nn,” Fubuki affirmed as he exchanged a look with Gouenji. “Shuu- Gouenji-kun wanted to see the flowers.”

            “They’re blooming wonderfully this year,” his grandmother said. “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen them in mid-July.” She turned to beam at the two of them. “Oh, I almost forgot. I drew some night scenery in Hong Kong. They sell pretty well there! I brought home one of those.” She rose from her seat and disappeared up the stairs in a blink of the eye.

            “… So she still draws when she travels, huh,” Gouenji said to him in a low voice.

            “She does,” Fubuki said, laying his head onto Gouenji’s shoulder in his grandmother’s absence. “I love her artworks. She always draws me something on her trips.”

            “Oh, so that painting of the forest in the dorm – ”

            Fubuki nodded against the solid warmth of Gouenji’s shoulder, breathing into his familiar scent and taking comfort in his presence.

            “Here it is!” came his grandmother’s exclamation from the stairs. Startled, he and Gouenji jumped apart.

            His grandmother descended to show them a small canvas painting of a harbor night view and a cluster of tall buildings dotted by millions of lights. “This is the Victoria Harbour,” she told them. “It’s a real tourist attraction.”

            “Fubuki-san, your art is amazing,” Gouenji said.

            “Thank you, dear, you’re such a sweet boy.” His grandmother looked appraisingly at Gouenji. “Where on earth did you find him, Shirou?”

            “Okinawa,” they chorused promptly and Fubuki laughed at the horrible joke. He could literally hear Gouenji rolling his eyes as he chuckled along quietly.

            “Youth,” his grandmother sighed with a fond smile. “You must be a really good friend, Shuuya-kun. Shirou hardly ever brings anyone home to play with when he was little.”

            Gouenji shot him a look and Fubuki smiled back, unblinking, determined not to dwell on the lonely years of his childhood after his more outgoing twin’s death. “I- yes. We met in Okinawa while fighting Aliea Academy.”

            A quick glance at the clock told Fubuki that it was about time for him to start lunch. “You two can do a little bonding,” he said, rising. “I’ll make something for lunch.”

            _Do you need help?_ the look Gouenji gave him said.

            Fubuki smiled at him. “Gouenji-kun can keep Grandma company.” He left his partner with his grandmother and began to prepare for their meal.

            As usual, his grandmother had stocked the kitchen with groceries upon her return. He reached for the rice, pork and seaweed, listening to the snippets of Gouenji and his grandmother’s conversation that had travelled into the kitchen.

            As he boiled rice and cooked the pork, he could hear something along the lines of “soccer team”, “important friend” and “sister”, then moving on to “Vancouver”, “Russia and its spectacular weather” and “Greek statues”.

            Fubuki joined in their conversation as they ate, and he was delighted to see that his grandmother was already very much taken with Gouenji. _Maybe… maybe…_

            True to what he had overheard, they were indeed talking about his grandmother’s travels. His grandmother had really been going everywhere – they listened to her trips to the Middle East as they finished the onigiri Fubuki had made, learning about the fascinating cultures of countries around the world.

            When Fubuki left them for a while to wash the few dishes they had used, he could still hear them conversing, and suddenly felt strangely at peace with the voices of the two people he loved mingling in the living room. It had been a while since the house was filled with more than two people. When he still studied at Hakuren, he was often alone in the house, and the only sounds when he washed up were his own breathing, the running water, and the occasional cricket or chattering squirrel. Now, he could hear exhales and laughter and the soft thuds of the bottoms of cups hitting wood.

            It felt good.

            It was not until after he left the kitchen to rejoin them did he notice he was smiling.

 

***

            “What are you plans for the afternoon, Fubuki-san?” Gouenji asked later in the afternoon.

            “I’ll be painting outside,” his grandmother replied as she rummaged in one of the drawers for paint and brushes. “Are you boys staying inside or something?”

            “Gouenji-kun probably wants to see the flowers, doesn’t he,” Fubuki said, catching sight of Gouenji’s slight nod at the corner of his eye. “We’re going outside to walk around a bit.”

            “Take care, you two.”

            “We will,” Fubuki promised her. He peeled his socks off at the doorway and opened the door, jogging out to the path barefooted. “Come on, Gouenji-kun!”

            Gouenji stared at his bare feet, and then met his eyes with a straight face.

            “It’ll feel amazing later in the fields,” Fubuki promised.

            Gouenji proceeded to take his own socks off and follow him out rather gingerly.

            As they crossed the path, his grandmother had emerged from the front door with her tools and she waved at them, pale yellow dress billowing in the light afternoon breeze, a huge smile on her face.

            They waved back before jogging farther out into the field. The soil was warm and soft underfoot, and the grass was almost waist-high, waving lazily like a giant green sea dotted with bursts of white, yellow and orange.

            Gouenji and Fubuki slowed down to a walk, drifting closer to each other almost unconsciously until their wrists and shoulders brushed.

            “Shirou,” Gouenji said.

            “Shuuya?”

            “I begin to see what you mean,” he said, inclining his head towards their bare feet.

            “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Fubuki laughed. “It’s like, a kind of release.”

            Gouenji nodded wordlessly, and Fubuki caught a curious expression on his face – something akin to awe, but not quite.

            They continued walking in companionable silence, until:

            “Does – will your grandmother be alright with this – us?”

            The question hung in between them.

            “I think so,” Fubuki said slowly. _Grandma is usually quite open-minded about these things._ “She likes you already too, so it should be alright.”

            Gouenji still looked doubtful, his brows furrowed like when he was troubled over something big.

            “I’m not going to out us unless you’re okay with it as well,” Fubuki said gently, taking Gouenji’s hand in his, making sure their intertwined fingers remained hidden from his grandmother’s eyes among the flowers. “She’s not the kind of person to hate something like this. I’m all for telling her, to be honest. But that’s because I’m sure it’s going to be okay.”

            The breath Gouenji exhaled was a little shaky, and he didn’t say anything else. Knowing Gouenji, he was probably mulling over what Fubuki told him.

 

***

 

            “Ne, Shuuya, do you want to make flower crowns?”

            “Yuuka did say she wanted one.”

            “I’ll teach you,” Fubuki said, tugging on Gouenji’s hand to lead him towards one of the large rocks in the middle of the field. They sat down, and Fubuki began his flower crown tutorial of sorts.

            “First, you use three flowers to start,” Fubuki said, leaning down to pick three orange flowers so he could demonstrate.

            Gouenji carefully selected three white blossoms and nodded.

            “Now you braid them like this- no, like _this_ ,” Fubuki said, taking over Gouenji’s flowers and showing him the correct way. Their fingers brushed and Gouenji’s onyx eyes were soft when their gazes met. Fubuki felt his heart skip a beat, like he was falling in love with Gouenji all over again.

            “There you go,” he told Gouenji. “Then you keep on adding to the chain, one flower at a time.”

            “Hn, it’s easier than I expected,” Gouenji said as they continued to weave their crowns.

            “It is,” Fubuki agreed. “The key is to be gentle.” He focused on the crown he was making, at the little orange flowers knotted together. “I should make one for Grandma as well. And Shuuya should make one for Yuuka-chan on the last day, so she can have a flower crown made with fresh flowers from Hokkaido as a souvenir.”

            “She’ll love it,” Gouenji said, smile growing tender at the mention of his sister.

            Finishing the flower crown he had been making, Fubuki dropped it onto Gouenji’s head, keeping it precariously balanced on his spikey hair.

            “…how do I look?”

            “Like a princess,” Fubuki answered, and promptly lapsed into a fit of giggles. “One befitting to the Prince of the Snowfield.”

            Gouenji huffed half in amusement, half in exasperation. He crowned Fubuki with his own wreath of white flowers. “Same to you, Snow Princess.”

            The next half an hour was spent firing bad princess gags at each other while walking around, enjoying the texture of the ground beneath their feet and admiring the seemingly endless spread of wildflowers before them.

            They finally settled down again to make another flower crown for his grandmother together – one made with yellow blossoms to match the dress she was wearing.

            When they had finished, they returned to where she was sitting in front of the house in her little stool, dabbing pale yellow paint with a long, thin brush onto her latest work.

            “What have you got there?” she asked them when they approached, and laughed when Fubuki placed the flower crown on her head of white-streaked curls.

            “We made it for you.”           

            “Oh, you boys are too sweet to this old lady. Now we all match!”

            Fubuki touched the flower crown on his own head, his chest growing warm at how happy she looked.

            “Was Shirou teaching you how to make these, Shuuya-kun?”

            “Yes, he was,” Gouenji replied. “What are you drawing, Fubuki-san?”

            His grandmother beamed at them and showed them the canvas she was working on – a perfect rendition of the sea of flowers before them… and the silhouettes of his and Gouenji’s bodies atop the rock in the distance, the distinct shape of flowers in their hands.

            “Grandma!” Fubuki gasped, nudging her playfully, albeit gently.

            “You two looked so happy sitting there together, I couldn’t help it,” she laughed, standing up and patting them both on the head.

            Gouenji looked a little stunned, so Fubuki let the back of his hand brush against his briefly in reassurance.

            “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you this happy, Shirou,” his grandmother told him, studying his face closely with crinkled dark eyes. “No, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you this happy,” she said, and turned to Gouenji. “Thank you, Shuuya-kun.”

            The stunned look intensified on Gouenji’s face. “No, please don’t mention it.”

            “Nonsense,” his grandmother said, eyes crinkling under the force of her smile. “Well, I’m pretty much finished with the painting, so I’ll be heading back inside. Make sure you wash those feet before you come into the house,” she said, wagging a finger at their dirty bare feet before moving to bring her things back inside.

            “I almost forgot I was walking barefoot,” Gouenji said quietly. “It felt so… liberating.”

            “Doesn’t it,” Fubuki agreed. “We have all summer for this, we can do it any time again. For now though, let’s clean up and head back inside.” He reached out to unroll the hose hung at the side of the house and began spraying Gouenji’s feet with it.

            Gouenji yelped rather uncharacteristically at the cool blast of water before subjecting himself to it and allowing the residue soil be washed away. He sat on the step of the doorway, dried his feet with the towel laid out beforehand, and took the hose from Fubuki to clean his feet as well.

            They headed back into the living room to sit with his grandmother with more barley tea. The wooden floorboards felt good against Fubuki’s freshly cleaned feet – just the right temperature and delightfully smooth. He suspected Gouenji felt the same, because he caught him discreetly rubbing the bottom of his feet against the floorboards under the table.

            “… Fubuki-san,” Gouenji began when their tea was half-gone.

            “Yes, Shuuya-kun?” his grandmother prompted gently.

            There was a beat of silence.

            “I would like to ask for your permission to take care of Shirou.” Gouenji’s voice was steady and sincere.

            “Shuuya,” Fubuki breathed, stunned and touched at the same time.

            His grandmother’s face contorted with surprise for a fearful split second, before she relaxed and said, “Ahh, so that’s how it is.”

            They both waited with baited breath.

            “If you were any other boys your age, I’d tell you it’s a little early for this, but I think you two are good for each other.” His grandmother paused, sipped her tea, smiled at Fubuki, and staged-whispered to him, “You chose well. I like him already.”

            Fubuki felt his face heat and ducked his head.

            “And you, Shuuya-kun, I’ll gladly give you that permission. I can see that you make each other happy.”

            They exchanged a quick glance, then Gouenji bowed low over the table, still sitting. “Thank you very much,” he blurted out, sounding shaky.

            “Shirou, make sure you take good care of him as well,” his grandmother said in a sterner tone, but her eyes were playful.

            “He already does,” Gouenji said, eyes warm and smile soft.

            “Well, I hope so,” his grandmother laughed. “Tell us when you’re ready to be part of the family.”

            “I will,” Gouenji said stoically.

            “Does your family know about this yet, Shuuya-kun?”

            Fubuki squeezed Gouenji’s hand under the table, knowing it was a rather sensitive topic. Gouenji returned the gesture and replied, “No, not yet.”

            His grandmother only nodded, drained her tea and stood up. “Oh, boys, one more thing,” she said.

            They both looked up and blinked at her.

            “When you two have the house to yourselves after I leave, make sure you use protection.”

            Fubuki felt himself dying a little inside when his grandmother winked suggestively at them and disappeared up the stairs. He slumped against Gouenji’s shoulder and let a breath escape quietly.

            “… I bought us condoms,” Gouenji said after a while.

            They spent the rest of the summer running around barefoot and using up the supply of condoms eagerly.

            They made that flower crown for Yuuka as well, of course.

 

-

 

_Third year of high school – Gouenji 18, Fubuki 18_

 

 

            Fubuki’s first impression of Gouenji Katsuya was that he was a very stern, no-nonsense man. He had seen him pass by his room a few times when he spent some time in Raimon Hospital recovering from the injury he had gotten from the match against Fire Dragon in the FFI. The doctor had stood ramrod straight, brows knitted close and gaze serious behind his glasses as he surveyed the ward with sharp eyes.

            But it was not until four years later when he was at Gouenji’s studying for their university entrance exams did he really meet his partner’s father officially.

            He and Gouenji had been helping Yuuka with her homework while revising their own material when the doorbell chimed.

            Yuuka skipped over to get the door, calling happily, “It’s Dad! He’s home early!”

            Fuku-san hurried out of the kitchen wiping damp hands onto her apron, , where she had been making dinner. “Oh, my, he’s home early tonight.”

            Fubuki saw Gouenji’s shoulders stiffen minutely, but his partner got out of his seat to welcome his father home. Fubuki followed them to the doorway, hanging a little awkwardly behind Gouenji as the door opened to reveal the doctor in all of his white-streaked hair and suited glory.

            “Welcome home!” Yuuka chirped, and to her apparent delight, Gouenji’s father smiled faintly and patted her on the head.

            “Welcome home, Father,” Gouenji said. The doctor nodded at him, shed his shoes and entered. Then turned to Fubuki.

            “Gouenji-san,” Fubuki said as politely as he could, bowing low. “Sorry for intruding upon your home. I’m Fubuki Shirou, a friend of Gouenji-kun.”

            Gouenji Katsuya surveyed him from behind his glasses, dark eyes unreadable.

            Fubuki fought to keep the polite smile on his face as natural looking as possible. _Shuuya’s father really is intimidating._ At the corner of his eye, he could see Gouenji slipping off into the kitchen with Yuuka and Fuku-san to help with dinner. He prayed that his partner’s father would not eat him alive.

            To his immense relief, the doctor nodded at him once in acknowledgement. “Fubuki, huh.” Dark eyes scanned him once from head to toe. “You were the one who was injured during the match against Fire Dragon, weren’t you?”

            “I- yes, I was.”

            “I remember you from the hospital.”

            Surprised, Fubuki could only laugh a little nervously. “It’s an honour to be able to meet you officially as Gouenji-kun’s father.”

            The doctor nodded again, only once, precise and stoic. “Are you staying for dinner?”

            They had actually initially planned for Fubuki to stay the night, since it was Friday, but that was before they knew Gouenji’s father was coming home early. _Oh, this is going to be so awkward._

“He’s going to stay the night,” Gouenji answered.

            “Then do stay,” the doctor said, walking past him and disappearing into the master bedroom still carrying his briefcase.

            There was a moment of silence where Fubuki was left standing in the hallway, blinking at the doctor’s abrupt departure, still stunned at what happened, before he recollected himself and slipped into the kitchen where the Gouenji siblings and Fuku-san were. The mouthwatering scent of curry assaulted his senses and he inhaled deeply. “It smells really good, Fuku-san,” he complimented, to the delight of the old housekeeper. “Anything I can do to help?”

            Gouenji nudged him gently with his shoulder and passed him five clean plates. “Set the table?”

            Fubuki smiled at him and took the plates off his hands. “Un!”

            The doctor returned to the dining room when Fubuki was in the middle of putting out chopsticks and spoons, still in his slacks and crisp shirt. Only his outer jacket was missing. He had not even loosened his tie. Fubuki opted to smile and nod at the doctor when he set the utensils at his place, and was instantly relieved when Fuku-chan bustled out with the rice cooker, Gouenji right behind her with the pot of curry and Yuuka with a tray of green tea.

 

***

 

            Dinner was a little awkward – Gouenji Katsuya was apparently a man of even fewer words than his son, so it was mostly Yuuka doing the talking, filling them in on her school day. She was already eleven, and Fubuki was abruptly hit with the fact that he had been mostly there for the last three years of her growth. He had been around the place so much – taking Yuuka home from school with Gouenji and staying to do homework, staying the night every other weekend, once watching Yuuka with his partner when Fuku-san was out… It felt like he had grown close to most of the family in these three years.

            Gouenji, Fuku-san and Fubuki took turns asking Yuuka about her friends and her club activities – she was a manager of her elementary school’s soccer team, and she had a lot to say about her teammates.

            Fuku-san was always pleasant to talk to too – she asked him about school and soccer practice, so he talked to Gouenji’s family about the tamer shenanigans Raimon High’s soccer team got up to. Even though Gouenji’s father stayed silent at his seat, Fubuki could see that he was listening. Gouenji told him once that his father rarely got to spend time with his family these days – his job at the hospital was demanding, and limited the time he could spend with the family, so he was hardly ever able to sit down at the dining table with the rest of them at all.

            When they had finished the last mouthful of food, Gouenji’s father had instantly disappeared into his room, leaving cleaning up to the rest of them. Fubuki helped with the washing up, insisting Fuku-san take a break instead.

            “I think I want to tell him,” Gouenji told him later, when they themselves had retreated into Gouenji’s room, door safely shut behind them. Gouenji was sitting at his desk, a pile of revision exercises tethering dangerously at his elbow, while Fubuki was on his stomach on the bed, in the middle of flipping through a Japanese literature textbook.

            Fubuki looked up from the book when Gouenji spoke, sitting up straight on the bed to meet his eyes. _You don’t have to._

            Gouenji responded to his silent statement with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to keep us a secret anymore. This,” he said, voice suddenly unsteady. “ _This_ shouldn't be something _shameful_.”

            Fubuki wished he could tell Gouenji that his father would accept them – accept Gouenji Shuuya’s choices. If it took a whole year and an FFI match to convince the doctor his son was a passionate footballer, what would it take for him to understand that Gouenji did not conform to the typical sexuality? Not knowing what else he could say, Fubuki simply leaned forward to touch Gouenji’s cheek gently.

            His partner laid his hand over his and kept in place as Gouenji turned his face to nuzzle his palm briefly. The uncharacteristically affectionate gesture took Fubuki by surprise, but he felt his chest grow warm all the same.

            “Thank you, Shirou.”

            “Shuuya…” Pushing his notes aside, Fubuki patted the space on the bed next to him. Gouenji took the invitation and sat down rather heavily, taking Fubuki’s hand into his own instead and starting to stroke his knuckles with a warm thumb.

            “If my mother were still here, she would’ve accepted us in a heartbeat.”

            The unsaid remained heard: _My father wouldn’t have become like this_.

            “I’ve told you what my father thinks about homosexuality. To him it’s unnatural and illogical and – ”

            _Wrong_.

            “We don’t have to tell him,” Fubuki told him. “Not until you’re ready. We can start with Fuku-san and Yuuka-chan if you want.”

            Fuku-san had always been understanding and kind, and Yuuka, he knew, would always support her older brother no matter what. She was a smart girl, and had wisdom beyond her years.

            But Gouenji shook his head and wrapped his arms around Fubuki, pressing their chests close together. Fubuki could feel Gouenji’s quickened pulse through the barrier of their shirts, pounding in a small, erratic frenzy against him.

            “Shuuya…?” he tried again.

            “It went so well with your grandmother,” Gouenji said quietly. “It was liberating.”

            Fubuki recalled the time they spent their summer in Hokkaido in their second year of high school – just last year, in fact. His grandmother had only stayed at the house for a week, but he had never really seen Gouenji so comfortable around an adult before. His partner was always so serious and uptight in front of adults, but he would not blame him, considering how his father had acted since his mother’s death.

            Back then, Gouenji was calling his grandmother “grandma” as well by the third day at the house –in fact a slip of the tongue when he was calling for her when dinner was ready. His grandmother was ecstatic when that happened, and had instantly pulled him into a crushing hug, much to Gouenji’s surprise.

            The memories of their stay suddenly flooded his mind: his grandmother teasing them about the looks they gave each other, his grandmother smiling fondly at their clasped fingers, his grandmother commenting offhandedly how good they looked standing side by side when they were cooking together…

            Fubuki remembered Gouenji’s half-stunned, half-awed face when he stepped into the field of wildflowers with his bare feet for the first time. Fubuki was no stranger to that sense of release – feeling the warm, dry soil soft underfoot, the way the springy shorter grass cushioned every footfall and how the taller stalks of wildflowers brushing against knees and hips.

            If Gouenji were to tell his father about their relationship, he would be treading brambles and thorns barefooted.

            “It wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer,” Fubuki said gently. His father’s opinion of him had always mattered to him. If his rejection was harsh, Gouenji would definitely get hurt.

            “This shouldn’t need to be a secret,” Gouenji said again. “You’re my _partner_ , not some kind of dirty secret.”

            They shared a few moments of silence, sitting side by side on the bed, fingers tangled with each other’s.

            Then Gouenji stood up. The bed creaked softly as his boyfriend’s weight left the mattress.

            “I’m going to tell him.”

            When their eyes met, the onyx depths of Gouenji’s gaze was liquid with burning conviction.

            “Now?”

            “Now. He always leaves early for work and returns late at night. I hardly get to talk to him as it is.”

            Fubuki nodded and stood up as well. “Then I’ll come with you. We’ll tell him together.” He caught sight of the expression on Gouenji’s face and chuckled a little. “No matter what he says, I won’t leave you. Unless you – ”

            “I’d never do that to us,” Gouenji said instantly. He reached towards him in the familiar gesture of tipping Fubuki’s face towards his, taking a moment to hold his gaze before leaning in closer to kiss him briefly but firmly. Fubuki relished, for the infinite time, in the way their lips fit together naturally and rose on the tip of his toes to kiss Gouenji again.

            They separated, and Fubuki suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He tried to quell the anxiety, running his fingers through his hair and tidying it almost subconsciously. _What am I going to say later?_

            The question continued to plague Fubuki as they left Gouenji’s room for his father’s. Gouenji’s hand raised itself to knock, and Fubuki’s mind remained horrifically blank. _Well, shit_.

            Gouenji Katsuya opened the door, still in his shirt and slacks, tie still tightly knotted at his neck and white-streaked hair still combed back tightly. “What is it?”

            “Father.” Fubuki did not miss the trepidation in Gouenji’s voice. “May we talk to you briefly please?”

            The doctor gave Fubuki a curious glance, but nodded once, opening the door wider to let them into the master bedroom.

            Fubuki had never been in here before – of course not. The room was decorated in black and white, and there was a queen-sized bed in the corner of the room next to the windows. Next to it was a huge, neatly-kept L-shaped desk. There were stacks of documents all over it and the shelves above were filled with large binders and bulging folders. A bookcase filled with medical books stood against the left wall. He tried not to look around, kept his back straight and gaze focused on the doctor, who had reseated himself on the wheeled, high-backed chair at the desk, turned around to face the two of them with an unreadable expression.

            He sensed Gouenji bracing himself mentally beside him, and forced himself to school his own face into one of utmost seriousness. His toes curled in his socks from his anxiety.

            “Father, we would like to tell you that we are in a relationship.”

            Silence.

            When the doctor’s face remained expressionless and unreadable, fear began to choke Fubuki. _Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all_.

            “What do you mean?” Gouenji’s father finally said. His voice sounded like ice.

            “Shirou and I are in a romantic relationship.”

            The atmosphere was so thick that one could cut through it with a knife.

            “I thought you were above this, Shuuya,” Gouenji Katsuya said, rising from his seat and taking two steps closer to them, eyes twin shards of black ice. “Surely you know unnatural this is. Humans are meant to paired up as one male and one female, how _dare_ you do something as disgusting as allowing yourself be – ” he shot Fubuki a look akin to revulsion “ – tempted to do something that violates the laws of nature.”

            “Father,” Gouenji tried again, voice a couple pitch higher than usual, betraying his emotions. “There’s nothing _unnatural_ about this. We fell in love and decided to be together.”

            The glare Gouenji’s father gave them was filthy. “Did _you_ taint him to become like _this_?” he asked deadly softly, coming another step closer towards Fubuki.

            Fubuki stepped back once to put a little space between them even though his heart told him to stand up against this insult. He forced himself not to flinch and leveled his gaze with the doctor’s. His toes were curling in so hard that he could feel his feet cramping. “It’s nothing like this,” he said, feeling the lump growing bigger in his throat. “W-we’re no different from a male-female couple. I love him. We love each other.”

            Gouenji Katsuya stalked back to his chair, sitting down and crossing his legs, turning back to the work spread out on his desk. “Disgusting. I don’t have the time to put up with this nonsense, Shuuya.”

            Gouenji grew impossibly tense next to him, and Fubuki quickly wrapped his fingers around his wrist before he could do anything. Gouenji, contrary to common belief, was far from cool-headed when incensed.

            “This – this isn’t _nonsense,_ _Father_ ,” Gouenji’s tone had grown as cold as his father’s. “We’re happy together, I was hoping you could at least understand that.”

            “You’ll soon come to regret this,” was the stony reply. “I simply cannot accept the fact that you have thrown aside my teachings for this _unnatural act_.”

            “There’s _nothing unnatural about this_.”

            “You dare tell me that indulging yourself in these _abnormal_ desires is _natural_? _I did not raise you to become such a person_. Does your _object of desire_ have nothing to say for _itself_?”

            The insult slammed into Fubuki like a freight train, crushing the air from his lungs. He should feel furious, but a cold, heavy rock settled at the pit of his stomach instead, and the lump in his throat grew so large he could hardly breathe. Gouenji shifted so their fingers were clasped together. Mutually, they desperately drew comfort from each other at the physical contact, but both their hands were trembling badly. Fubuki’s toes felt like stiff hunks of ice inside his socks.

            “We aren’t doing this just because of sexual desire, Gouenji-san. I care very much for Shuuya, and I know he feels the same way.”

            Silence.

            “Shirou’s right. Spending time with him makes me happy, Father. Being with him makes me happy in a way even playing soccer cannot.”

            At this, Gouenji Katsuya turned in his seat to face them again.

            “If it weren’t for the fact…” he inclined his head gingerly towards Fubuki, “… is standing in front of me, I’d think you have a girlfriend.”

            Gouenji and Fubuki stayed silent, unsure how to respond to that.

            “I’m not going to accept this,” the doctor said finally. “I simply find it impossible and unpleasant as to why you would choose to engage in these activities.”

            Fubuki shot Gouenji a sideways glance only to see that his lips were pressed tight together, the furrow between his brows deep. He resisted the urge to reach forward and smooth it out.

            “I’ll let you do as you want for now,” Gouenji Katsuya sighed, turning around again to focus on his work. “If you regret your decision, I will not tolerate you coming back to me asking for advice.”

            Gouenji’s fingers tightened around Fubuki’s.

            Fubuki saw the doctor’s eyes flicker to their joined hands briefly, and the cold dark depths filled with disparagement. “Take your _activities_ outside of my room. Never let me see anything like that again.”

            Wordlessly, Gouenji strode towards the door, keeping their hands joined and pulling Fubuki along with him. He yanked the door open and closed it after them quickly.

            “Nii-chan? Shirou-nii?”

            Yuuka was standing in the corridor, a hand raised to knock on Gouenji’s bedroom door, an exercise book in her hands.

            “You were looking for us, Yuuka-chan?” Fubuki had to fight to keep his voice steady.

            “Yeah, there’s something I don’t understand- are you two okay?”

            Gouenji and Fubuki exchanged a look. _Do we tell her?_

            “We’ll explain. Can you call Fuku-san in here as well? There’s something we’d like to tell you,” Gouenji said, patting her on the head.

            Yuuka nodded with a confused smile and fetched the housekeeper, and the four of them piled into Gouenji’s room – Gouenji sat in his at the desk, Fubuki stood behind him, while Fuku-san and Yuuka settled on the bed facing them.

            “We were talking to Father about our relationship,” Gouenji began softly.

            Yuuka fixed them with a curious stare. “What is there to talk about?”

            “The thing is, Yuuka-chan… your brother and I are dating.”

            Fuku-san gave a little gasp and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Shuuya-sama, I suspected, but I wasn’t sure if I was right.” She looked back and forth between Gouenji and Fubuki, eyes growing unnaturally bright. “You really have grown up, Shuuya-sama,” she said thickly, producing a handkerchief from her apron pocket and wiping her eyes quickly with it. “I’m so proud of you.”

            “So is it the same as a boy and a girl dating?” Yuuka asked, eyes wide and curious.

            “It’s the same, except we’re both boys,” Gouenji answered her, voice wavering at the last syllable.

            “Then there’s not much difference, is there?” Yuuka said thoughtfully, putting her chin in her hand. “You like each other a lot, you hold hands and hug and kiss and go on dates.” She counted each item off on her fingers and looked up at them. “Did I miss anything?”

            “No, that’s about it,” Fubuki smiled at her. A new kind of emotion welled in his chest that prompted him to lay his hand on Gouenji’s shoulder and squeeze it gently. When Gouenji raised his head to look at him, Fubuki could see that his eyes were wet with barely held-back tears.

            “Then what’s wrong? Why did you look so sad just now?”

            Fuku-san hushed Yuuka immediately, but Gouenji shook his head. “Yuuka needs to know.”

            “Father does not approve of this relationship,” Gouenji continued to explain, turning back to his sister and the housekeeper. “He doesn’t like the fact we’re of the same gender,” he added for Yuuka, who nodded gravely in understanding.

            “But you love each other,” Yuuka protested. “Isn’t that enough? It’s always enough in manga, anyways.”

            The new emotion swelled larger in Fubuki’s chest.

            Gouenji chuckled wetly, stood up, and spread his arms. Yuuka leapt off the bed and crashed into his embrace, smiling when her brother wrapped his arms firmly around her.

            “Fuku-san and Shirou-nii too!” she said, looking up at Fubuki with wide brown eyes from where she was resting her head on Gouenji’s left shoulder.

            “Un,” Fubuki smiled, moving to hug Gouenji from behind. Fuku-san’s arms overlapped his as she joined the pile from behind Yuuka, and Yuuka giggled when Fubuki gently bumped his forehead against hers.

            The emotion swelled so, so big, but it did not pop like an overstretched balloon. Instead, it spread down the length of his legs to the tips of his toes, and he could not help but connect this feeling with what he felt when he walked barefooted through the wildflowers with Gouenji.

            His vision suddenly went blurry with hot tears, so he buried his face into the right side of Gouenji’s neck to hide them from Yuuka, enveloping himself in his partner’s warmth and scent.

            _Maybe it_ will _be enough_.

            “It’ll be more than enough,” Gouenji replied to Yuuka’s question, and the tears finally slipped from Fubuki’s eyes and down his face.

            _It_ will _be more than enough._

 

-

 

_Legitimate Responsible Working Adults – Gouenji 29, Fubuki 29_

            Sunday afternoons are the family’s favourite time of the week. Gouenji doesn’t have to teach or coach at the local high school, which means Fubuki doesn’t have to help out with the coaching, and neither does he have any more students at Sendai Ice Rink to teach after his three morning sessions. Saya, their five-year-old daughter definitely doesn’t have school for the weekend.

            Fubuki sees off his last student of the day and exits the ice rink after skating a couple of rounds to cool off. Stepping from ice to the non-slip rubber-padded floor in his skates, he walks heavily to his locker to retrieve his bag and shoes.

            As he changes his footwear, one of the new staff members of the rink comes over to greet him. “Finished with the week’s lessons? Where are you heading to later?”

            “Un,” he replies, looking up at the older woman to shoot her a brief smile before looking down again to finish tying his shoelaces. “I have a day out with my daughter.”

            The lady giggles with a hand over her mouth. “Saya-chan is so lucky to have a good father like you.”

            “And I’m lucky to have a good girl like her,” Fubuki returns amicably.

            “Is that handsome friend of yours looking after her now?” she asks. “You must be really close friends.”

            Fubuki gives her his best innocent smile and lets his wedding ring flash in the fluorescent lights. “Oh, yes, we are.” He finishes packing his skates into his bag and stands up, ignoring the sudden shift in balance as his body recalibrated itself to walking on land in normal shoes. “I’ll be going now. See you tomorrow afternoon!”

            “G-goodbye!”

            Fubuki picks up his pace as he walks towards the entrance. At this exact moment, the phone in his pocket buzzes.

            _Shuuya,_ the contact name says.

He flips his phone open and puts it to his ear.

            “Hello,” a familiar child’s voice said in the lowest-pitched voice she can muster.

            “Who is this?” Fubuki decides to humor his daughter. “I bet it’s… Shuuya!”

            “Yep, it’s me,” Saya continues in her not-so-low-pitched tone. “Come out quickly, we’re waiting for you.”

            He catches laughter from the real Shuuya in the background.

            Fubuki tries his best to stifle his fond chuckle. “I’m hurrying out now. Love you, Shuuya. Tell Saya I love her the best!”

            “Okay, bye.” Saya says gravely before the line goes dead.

            Their daughter really is the best thing that has happened to them.

            Fubuki exits the rink to be greeted with the dry, cool autumn breeze and the too-familiar car stopped at the side of the road.

            He walks over to the front passenger seat and the door clicks audibly as it is unlocked from inside. The moment he opens the door, Saya wriggles excitedly in her child’s seat at the back, shoulder-length light brown braids bouncing with the movement. “Hi Daddy!”

            “Hi to both of you,” Fubuki greets as he slides into his seat, pulling his bag onto his lap. He buckles up, turns around to look at his daughter properly and feels his heart warm and swell at the bright twinkle in her dark green eyes. “Did Dad tell you I love you the best?” he asked.

            Saya nodded. “I love Dad and Daddy the best too!”

            The warm sensation intensifies when Gouenji nudges him with a shoulder and grabs his chin to pull him into a brief kiss.

            “Hello,” Gouenji says with a smile when they part.

            “Off to the soccer field?” Fubuki asks his family.

            “The soccer field!” Saya answers excitedly. “Dad said you’ll both teach me new moves, right?”

            “Aah,” Gouenji affirms with a nod as he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the rink. “Those that are going to help you avoid opponents.”

            “Un! I’m going to learn them all and show those boys in school!”

            Saya _did_ say that there is a group of mean boys in kindergarten who told her girls cannot play soccer because they’re icky.

            _Too bad for them, my little girl_ loves _soccer._ Fubuki keeps his thought silent and instead tells her, “Girls can certainly play soccer if they want, like you! But prove to them that you can play _with_ them, alright?”

            Saya looks thoughtful for a few moments. “But I don’t want to play with them. They’re really mean.”

            “Then remind them girls like Zaizen Touko and Urabe Rika played perfectly fine with the legendary Endou Mamoru.”

            “Oh, right! Touko-san and Rika-san!” Saya’s face lights up as she probably recalls the faces of the two women who had come all the way to Miyagi to visit them last winter. “I forgot they’re girls too. They’re so cool!”

            Gouenji chuckles quietly beside him. “One day, you’ll be as cool as they are too.”

            “Un!”

            The carpark next to the soccer field they frequent comes into view.

            “We’re here, we’re here!” Saya cries, fidgeting impatiently in her seat.

            “Saya, sit still,” Fubuki chastises, “Dad’s still parking the car.”

            Saya is out of the car the second Gouenji turns off the engine, bouncing excitedly on her feet as her parents get out of the car as well. Fubuki immediately scoops his little girl into his arms and carries her over to the side. They _are_ in a car park after all. It could be dangerous.

            Gouenji fetches The Sakka Bag from the trunk, locks up and comes over to take Fubuki’s unoccupied right hand.

            The little family makes its way to the soccer field they frequent – it’s a nice place. It is often empty, save for the trio of junior high students who come every now and then to play. There is also plenty of trees and grass surrounding it to provide shade and space for relaxing.

            Today is their lucky day.

            “We have it all to ourselves today!” Saya wriggles in Fubuki’s arms in exuberance. “Let’s play!”

            Fubuki sets Saya down onto the ground the moment Gouenji puts one of their soccer balls onto the ground, then she was off, giving the black-and-white sphere a good kick and sprinting after it.

            Gouenji and Fubuki stand in the sidelines to watch their daughter dribble the ball for a while.

            “Her skills are developing well,” Gouenji says, voice tinged with pride. Fubuki doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling.

            “She’s going to be amazing. She moves like you.”

            Gouenji huffs a good-natured sigh. “With more training, her senses are going to be as sharp as yours.”

            Their hands find each other’s and tangle together as they continue to observe their little girl, now a white-and-green-clad blur on the field, her brown braids flying behind her as she streaks after the ball, kicks it into the air and starts bouncing it on her right knee.

            _Just like a pro._

            “Well, she’s _our_ daughter,” Fubuki tips his head a little to shoot Gouenji a little smile. “I can only hope that she doesn’t become overly obsessed like Endou-kun. It’s a miracle that he didn’t actually marry a soccer ball, no?”

            A deep, rich laugh erupts from Gouenji. “Their children would be horrible.”

            Fubuki laughs so hard his abs hurt. “ _Oh my god_ , Shuuya, that’s a mental image I could’ve lived without.”

            “Dad! Daddy! Come and play too!” Saya calls for them from the middle of the field.

            Gouenji and Fubuki exchange a look, shed their jackets simultaneously at the bench and jog over to her immediately.

            “We’ll teach you new moves,” Gouenji tells an impossibly bright-eyed Saya. “Pass it here.”

            Saya does as instructed, and Fubuki notices with a swell of satisfaction that the speed and direction of the kick is perfect for someone her age.

            “What will you teach me today?” Saya asks.

            “A technique called a tackle,” Gouenji answers. “It’s Shirou’s specialty.”

            “Daddy’s?”

            “Aah,” Gouenji nods. “It’s a very important technique in soccer. You can either steal the ball or stop your opponent from taking the ball from you with it.”

            Saya’s face is schooled into one of seriousness and focus.

            “We’ll show you how it’s done, so watch carefully now.”  


***

 

            They spend a good hour playing together. Saya has learned the tackle quickly, but of course, it takes accumulation of practice and experience to perfect it. Gouenji and Fubuki are proud of her progress regardless.

            It has barely been two months since Saya told them that she wants to play soccer seriously. They had always played around with a ball with her since she could walk and run, but the soccer ball had mostly been treated as any other ball – used for throwing, kicking – anything. On a few occasions, Saya had even tried to roll it on the floor like a bowling ball after seeing a bowling competition on television.

            (But Saya had seen one of their old matches, and told them “I want to be as cool as Dad and Daddy.”

            “You don’t have to play soccer to be cool,” Fubuki said to her. “You can do pretty much anything else and be still as cool.”

            “But I like soccer!” Saya replied to them. “I like kicking the ball.”

            At that, Gouenji leaned forward to pat her on the head. “Alright,” he said. “I can see you’re serious about this. We’ll teach you how to play.”)

            Tired from their activities, the family moved into the grassy shade under one of the big trees at the side of the field to rest.

            Saya is sprawled on the grass between the two of them, one of her braids already a mess. Strands of brown hair have escaped from the green rubber band and are sticking to her flushed, sweaty face. Fubuki reaches over automatically to brush them out of the way, and Saya giggles tiredly. “That tickles, Daddy.”

            Fubuki smiles fondly at her, straightens out her wind-tousled bangs, and looks over to Gouenji. His husband has rolled up the sleeves of his black long-sleeved shirt and swept his platinum-blond low ponytail to one side, still looking unfairly attractive in his late twenties.

            Gouenji catches him staring and gives him one of his patented smirks, then proceeds to get Saya to sit up with her back to him, and starts to redo her hair, tanned fingers sliding gently through the brown locks and twisting it back into her trademark braids. Fubuki feels himself falling in love all over again with that tenderness and blunt kindness.

            “Thank you, Dad!” Saya chirps when Gouenji is finished, and turns around to kiss his cheek.

            Fubuki pulls his phone out just in time to snap a picture, and internally praises the advancement of technology. “This is going to be my new lockscreen wallpaper,” he announces to his husband and daughter.

            Gouenji rolls his eyes at him while Saya giggles and asks Fubuki to show her the photo.

            “It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Fubuki says.

            They both lean in to study the photo onscreen. A long moment later, Gouenji nods and Saya chirps an “un!” as her seal of approval.

            Gouenji and Fubuki exchange at another look at their daughter’s contentment. Saya isn’t their biological daughter – of course not. Fubuki can still recall them making the decision to adopt four years ago. When they had first moved to Miyagi after the Holy Road fiasco, they bought their house – two-story with one bathroom, a master bedroom and two smaller rooms. One was converted into a guest room, and the other was left unfurnished and locked for the while.

            (They were married, but only just.

            “Shirou, what do you think of adopting– ”

            “Ne, Shuuya, about the spare room – ”

            A beat of silence as they held each other’s gaze, reading, maybe wishing a little…

            “… Are we thinking of the same thing?”

            “… u-un.”

            Gouenji’s eyes were bright with hope as he reached across the dining table to take Fubuki’s hands into his. “We’re going to be serious about this.”

            Fubuki returned that endearing eye-glint with a smile of his own. “Of course. Nothing less than that for our child.”)

            It hadn’t been easy, not even when they were applying to the Sun Garden. The paperwork was atrocious and they had to prepare the room that would soon become their child’s.

            But it has all been worth it – of course it has been.

            Now, he looks fondly over to where Saya has flopped down, suddenly realizing how much she has grown from the barely-one-year-old toddler they had adopted four years ago.

            “Aaaah, it’s hot,” Saya tells them.

            “Try taking off your shoes and socks. It’ll be cooler like this.” Gouenji kicks his shoes off as he speaks and shimmies his socks off in example.

            “I used to do this all the time when I was small,” Fubuki says, shooting his husband an amused glance. He reaches for his own shoes and sheds them along with his socks. When he wriggles his bare toes, they make a succession of cracking noises that Saya giggles at.

            Both Gouenji and Fubuki set their footwear aside and stand up to step onto the ground barefooted.

            “It’s been a long while,” Gouenji smiles at Fubuki, taking hold of his hand at his side.

            “Un,” Fubuki twines their fingers together and stretches a hand towards their daughter. “Saya?”

            Saya stares at them for a few moments with bright eyes, then kicks her shoes and socks off and presses her little feet into the short, cropped grass.

            Fubuki watches as her tiny, tiny toes curl for a heartbeat, before she looks up at them again and announces, “It feels nice!”

            Gouenji nods once at her, hums his agreement and offers his own hand as well.

            Beaming from ear to ear, Saya bounces over to where they are standing and takes their hands so naturally and willingly that the simple gesture makes Fubuki’s heart swell inexplicably once more.

            “Doesn’t it?”

 

***

 

            They spend the remainder of the afternoon exploring the little flower shrubs growing in the patch of grass around the soccer field, and Gouenji and Fubuki make a small white-and-orange flower crown for their princess.

            When they finally leave the place, the sun has started to sink below the horizon, dying the world in warm reds and golds. Saya is asleep and safely nestled in Gouenji’s arms, exhausted from their earlier activities. Her round cheeks are rosy and a small, sweet smile is tugging on her lips even in her sleep.

            Fubuki cannot stop the affectionate smile that has found its way onto his own face, and he reaches out to brush a few strands of her bangs back into order.

            The walk back to the car is spent in a comfortable silence.

            They strap the still-sleeping Saya in her child’s seat, close the door as softly as possible. This time, Fubuki slides into the place behind the wheel while Gouenji gets into the passenger seat. Fubuki’s feet still feel tingly and refreshed from walking around barefooted.

            “I think we’re doing an okay job,” Gouenji suddenly says.

            When Fubuki looks at him, he is staring at their daughter with that particularly tender look on his face, eyes bright and soft at the same time.  
            A strange lump suddenly makes its presence known in Fubuki’s throat, and he has to swallow once, hard, to get rid of it.

            They share another few moments of silence, just staring at their daughter, slumbering in peace, yet to become aware of the thorns and brambles in the world of maturity.

            “We’ll only know for sure in another decade,” Fubuki finally answers Gouenji. The possibilities of Saya’s future are endless. For all he knows, she could grow up becoming ashamed of being adopted by two men.

            Gouenji turns to look at him then. The sunlight turns his dark skin bronze and his hair spun gold. “We’re going to be fine, Shirou. She’s _our_ daughter, after all.”

            Fubuki chuckles and leans in to press his lips to Gouenji’s. His lips are soft and dry, as they always are. He gasps quietly when Gouenji slides his tongue into his mouth and licks back, slow, warm and wet – the way they both like best.

            They separate.

Gouenji’s familiar taste is still in Fubuki’s mouth, and the setting sun is warm on his cheekbones. Fubuki turns the key and the engine rumbles to life.

            “Let’s go home, ne?”

            “Aah.”

 

*

*  
*

*  
*

 

 

            (They don’t know just yet, but another ten years later, Gousetsu Saya will ask them one evening after dinner when they are all sprawled on the sofa together, watching a weird anime about personified swords fighting battles for their _aruji-sama_ : “Did I become who you two expected me to be when you first adopted me?”

            “Yes and no,” Gouenji will reply. “No because we never quite expected the soccer obsession nor the ice-skating mania.”

            Saya will laugh and elbow her father in the side gently and say, “Then what about the ‘yes’ part?”

            “We hoped for a child we could call ours,” Fubuki will tell her simply. “And here we are.”

            “Here we are,” Saya will echo and blush a little embarrassedly, but of course, she will still snuggle into the space between her fathers and brush her bare feet against theirs and tell them, “You’re the best parents I could ever ask for”.)

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note to explain Saya's surname. I combined Gouenji (豪炎寺) and Fubuki (吹雪)'s surnames to form Gousetsu (豪雪). I figured that they wouldn't name their daughter Gouenji-Fubuki Saya or just use one of their surnames, so yes. Gousetsu Saya. 
> 
> ((also this may or may not be a reference to Yukimura's keshin Gousetsu no Saia /shot))
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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